


More than a Reward

by DarthSuki



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Desperation, Dirty Talk, F/M, Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Relationship Negotiation, Spoilers, Spoilers for ARR main questline, Unnamed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 10:04:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17999741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSuki/pseuds/DarthSuki
Summary: In the days after your victory at The Praetorium, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn have been busy and peaceful in equal measure. There's so much to do and yet so little at the same time, all you want to do is enjoy the newfound serenity as the 7th Astral Era dawns over all of Eorzea.However, Thancred approaches you with something; a proposition, he says, a reward for your part in saving him, though you have a feeling that his affections run far deeper than that.





	More than a Reward

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a request made on my FFXIV writing blog. If you would like to submit a request or check out my other related work, [go check it out here!](https://finalfantasyxivwritings.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ....also please forgive me if anything is odd, this is my first work for the fandom ;w;

In the days beyond the victory against the Garlean Empire it’s as if you live in a dream. Emotions pool together within your mind and soul both, seeping into every little crevice they can fit with their cool embrace. You’re not quite sure how to begin to describe them as they all take equal precedence: pride, joy, anxiety, worry, the unknown itself laid before you in ways you can hardly wrap your mind around.

Echoes of the celebration, of the declaration of the Seventh Astral Era’s dawn still play within you. You can still hear the powerful words of all three city-state military leaders as much as you can the faint press of your most recent vision. One might think that this new dawn would bring forth nothing but peace and serenity, but it seems there is no rest nor relaxation for those like you.

Enthusiastic joy greets you upon entrance into the Waking Sands. It’s hard not to feel a little embarrassed by the attention–everyone you step past seems to take notice of you and offers some manner of word or gesture to showcase their gratitude in your accomplishments.

Perhaps you’ve lived so long in shadow that it’s hard to accept that there is now light shining through the cracks of the prison falling to dust and ash.

Regardless, you can’t help but feel caught up in the celebrations, the thanks, the wondrous adrenaline that comes only with a hard-fought victory. It is the dawn of the Seventh Astral Era, an era which you never thought to see–one that many never thought possible when memories of the Great Calamity were still fresh for many.

It seems that many of the other Scions feel the same as you, unsure how to organize their emotions beyond simple joy and exuberant celebration as you all stand within the Solar of the Waking Sands, trying to make conversation that never quite feels casual in the wake of such ecstatic highs. Each of you seem to have your unique way of going about the thrall of victory; Minfilia speaks of new goals, Yda seems to have a laugh in every other word and even the normally ambivalent Urianger has a smile, ever so soft, seemingly permanent over his hooded face.

“We have accomplished much in the last many suns,” Minfilia says to the group, though the gesture truly needs not to be said. “I am proud of all of you, and especially our own warrior of light-” she glances to you, a grateful look in her eyes. “-without whom we wouldn’t have gotten here.”

She continues on for a few minutes, of ongoings and plans and meetings, before the group is finally able to disperse to their own doings. Though victory hangs heavy above all of Eorzea, it doesn’t mean that the job of the Scions is yet over, only that they are one step closer to the peace dreamt of since the group’s inception.

You are but two steps from the door of the Solar before a hand on your shoulder stills you.

“Have you a moment to talk?”

You turn your head but recognize the voice in a breath as Thancred. His grip is gentle, almost unsure, and his hand retreats in the same moment that your eyes meet his own.

“Of course,” you say without hesitation. “What do you need of me, Thancred? Oh–are you feeling ill?”

It’s been but several suns since Thancred was freed from his possession by Lahabrea. The worry for any lingering effects has been prominent within the Scions, though none have yet asked him directly.

To your relief, the man smiles and shakes his head.

“I feel as healthy as ever,” he says, shrugging after a moment. “Give me a great sum of gil and a couple bedmates though and I’m sure I’d feel even better.”

You roll your eyes as he laughs, the moment gently sitting on the edge of a question that you can vaguely feel behind his lips. There’s a look in the man’s eyes, one you’ve grown familiar with if only from experience and perhaps even the Echo having the slightest influence.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

Thancred takes in a breath and hesitates, which in itself puts you at a feeling of unease as you wait for his words.

He shifts from one foot to another, gaze briefly flicking up and searching around the area. There are several others about the halls, voices low in their own conversations, though none of them seem to be paying you and Thancred any mind at all.

“Can we,” he starts, voice low. “perhaps find somewhere private to talk?”

—

The two of you find a storeroom easily enough, and easier still not a single person stops you nor Thancred–everyone is too busy in their own worlds and minds that two fellow Scions going about their business doesn’t arouse much interest. You can’t help but feel worry bubbling in your stomach with every step, however, wondering why Thancred wants to speak with you privately–especially still with that look in his eyes.

Once the wooden door is closed, the two of you stand in but a moment of mutual silence. For as composed as he tries to look, the Hyur can’t mute the gentle shift of his body or the fiddling of his fingers against the material of his shirt. Maybe it’s because you’ve grown used to noticing little details in the many people met along your travels, or perhaps still it’s because you’ve simply grown to know Thancred well; either way, he looks…nervous.

Very nervous.

And it worries you.

“So uh,” you start, trying to keep the air from being awkward between you. “Any reason why we needed to find an empty storeroom to talk?”

It’s not an accusation nor an insult. Humor, or at least the attempt of it, fills your words enough that Thancred’s pursed lips soften into something that looks more like a smile. He leans back against the closed door, arms crossed in a familiar pose that you’ve seen plenty of times in your short but frequent visits to the Waking Sands. Despite whatever attempts he plays to look assured or perhaps even casual, there’s a subtle flush of red against his cheeks.

“You saved my life,” Thancred starts. “And I’m quite grateful for that.”

You blink, then start to laugh.

“You say that as if I had a choice in the matter.”

You try not to let the laughter break your words up beyond understanding, watching as the man’s face pulls into confusion.

“Thancred, you’re dear to me,” you say, hand gesturing at him as if it would help emphasize the meaning. “I couldn’t bare to leave you under the thrall of that demon, and less could I leave you in that base to die when there was even the slightest chance to save you.”

The answer satisfies his confusion and moreover leaves him looking humbled, cheeks flushed an even deeper red and his eyes looking away, towards some part of the room that isn’t you. He shifts against the door, opens his mouth, then closes it again. The air between you feels thick, not so much with tension, but with something untouched, a topic yet breached–Thancred looks desperately as if he’s trying to do just that.

“Well, morals and meaning aside, you still saved my life,” he says, finally straightening his body from the door, his arms still crossed. “You’ll know I’m not a man who carries debts willingly and, well, I feel as though compensation for such a perilous feat is in order.”

You stare at him.

“I’m…not sure I’m following.”

Thancred sighs and brings a hand up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before letting his arms drop to his sides, he taking  a step closer to you.

“Then let’s not play around the topic at hand,” he says, almost too soft to sound casual. “You…deserve something in reward. From me. And I feel such a reward offered is one best given in _private_.”

Thancred takes another step closer.

He stand’s but an arm’s length away from you now, his eyes meeting yours; the air in the room shifts rapidly, showing its hand to you at last for what it was, what you had taken to be mere nerves or awkwardness between you both. Oh, it’s not nerves–not in the way you thought of, at least, but something much _more_.

Heat rises to your cheeks as the implications grow clear for what the man is leading on about. He’s normally quite blunt in these things, toying at best in euphemism, but euphemism all the same–it catches you by surprise to hear him speaking delicately of the subject. You’re certain he’s not playing a prank; you know him enough to hear the genuineness in his words, though you’re left blinking in mild shock as you try to pull an answer from your thoughts.

When he doesn’t get an answer, or really much of a response, Thancred’s brows furrow.

“You…understand what I’m offering, correct?”

Oh, seven hells below. You try to keep a plain expression as you meet his eyes, let your mind take in the fact that he’s stepping closer still and you’re moving backwards and-

“I think I do,” you say at last, sounding a bit more flustered than you care to. “But Thancred, I wouldn’t be able to take you up for–er–that. I mean-” you bumble for words for a few moments more, stepping until your back hits the wall behind you. “-I don’t want you to feel obligated in anything. I do nothing for reward and lesser still for uh, this.”

Thancred stands still at arms’ length, daring not to move any closer while you speak.

“Oh, but I insist,” he says, a coy smile pulling at his lips. “Really, I wouldn’t be offering this if I didn’t have some desire for it.”

It’s playful, that smile of his, and it makes your heart skip a beat to see it.

Thancred is very much a lovely man of course, one who’s captured your attention since the day you met him, but he’s layered in so much enigma and double-speak that it’s difficult to see what he means and wants without second-guessing yourself. You try to wrap your mind around the moment before you in full: his offer, the heat in your face and the gentle lust in your belly.

And then a thought finally hits you. It’s but a gentle one, a whisper in the back of your mind though enough to give your worried thoughts pause. You look at the man before you for a few moments and finally allow yourself to speak. To test something.

“I cannot take your offer in good faith,” you announce with a surprising amount of conviction. “It would be dishonorable, especially if any part of you feels obligated simply because I saved your-”

You don’t have the time to finish the sentence. The wind and words are knocked out of you as you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders, hands that press you back against the wall as Thancred steps close enough that he’s almost pressed against you. The tension in his expression is back, as is the soft hue of red on his cheeks, brows furrowed in what looks to be anger or annoyance.

“I don’t think you understand me,” Thancred’s voice is low as he speaks. “I…would not offer this to anyone else. At all. Though you may see this as some shallow dealing, I _want_ this and, well, you.”

Though he has you pressed back, it’s not nearly with enough strength that you can’t step to the side and break the hold. Thancred isn’t meaning to crowd you back or make you feel forced, but he does let his hand of cards show more than he likely had cared to, if only by the softness of his words and the vulnerability in his eyes.

He’s not a man who, especially after what he’s been through, to allow someone to see into his emotions very readily.

“Thancred,” you whisper, reaching a hand and gently pressing it to his chest not to push him back, but to feel his heart. It’s racing, drumming hard against the palm of your hand, giving away what last refuge of perceived carelessness that the man might have been able to fake. “Would you have proposed this to me even before I saved you?”

Thancred is silent for a few moments, dropping his eyes to the floor before letting out a chuckle.

“Ever a good heart,” the words come through the soft laughter. “But ‘tis the same heart we all know you for. Perchance yes, I would have brought this up long before you decided to save my sorry self from possession.”

“Why make this so complicated then?”

Your hand moves from the man’s chest, up to gently press against his cheek. It feels warm to the touch as the rest of him does, but at least it pulls his eyes back up to meet yours.

“Complexity is half the fun,” Thancred argues with little heat. “And you’re not exactly the average recipient to my fanciful words.”

“You think far too highly of me,” You laugh. “Really, you could have just asked.”

That seems to give him pause, genuine wordless surprise enough that he just stares, blinking at you as his brain takes in the otherwise simple statement. Had he considered it? Had Thancred truly built up the idea that he couldn’t just be blunt with his affections or desires–how long had he held them silent against his chest?

Somehow, the thought seems rather endearing.

Thancred sighs, his expression once more in his reign as it settles to enigmatic thoughtfulness, and he leans ever closer; his chest is almost against your own and his face close enough to see the tiniest details in his soft, brown eyes. It’s too easy to get lost in them, so much that you might have missed the man’s gentle murmur if it wasn’t for how he smiles at you.

“If that’s the case, consider this my most humble request.”

You heart practically leaps from your chest when he closes the gap between your faces. His lips press hard to yours in barely enough time to take a breath, your hands instinctively moving  to reach around his neck and tug the man ever closer to you.

Your bodies press together, hot and urgent, as the moment turns desperate–the door unlocked and opened, you can’t hope to put a stop to the emotions that rush through you nor the motions of your body as it becomes clear how Thancred intends to make use of the privacy of the storeroom. Though a little surprised by the quick turn of events, you make no motion to push him away. If anything you tug him closer still, mouth moving against his own in a growing desperation for his touch and attention.

How long has it been since you’ve let someone touch you like this?

Only when you’re at a loss for thoughts and words does Thancred pull his face back.

“Is it safe to assume you’re open to the prospect?”

His whisper is low and soft but it buzzes against your lips all the same, breath hot and body hotter still. You find your hands pressing into his hair, fingers delving into soft white locks and tugging gently, though enough that it makes your soon-to-be lover moan in barely-audible pleasure.

“You assume correctly,” you murmur. “And now that we’ve been thorough in the communication, I believe there was a reward offered for saving your life?”

“Oh yes,” Thancred’s smile widens with the words, one of his knees shifting already between your own. “For a deed like that, you should be compensated with the utmost gratitude.”

His intentions are clear, but they’re not exactly what you yearn for most in the moment. Instead of letting him shift closer to you, you instead unwind your arms from around his neck and, watching as the man’s expression turns to surprise, you effortlessly manhandle him until your positions are switched.

“What are you doing?” is all he can sputter out in question, his wrists pinned next to his head beneath your firm, careful hands.

“You look cute when you’re flustered.”

You feel a smile pulling at your lips, mischievous enough that it surprises you for how far your thoughts and desires had run amok already. There will be plenty of times in the future to enjoy his touch, but this time? This time you want to see what Thancred looks like against your attention. You’re not about to let the opportunity to see him pleasure-stricken pass by without even a little argument.

For all that he must try to hide it, Thancred looks taken aback, cheeks reddened and eyes meeting yours in open vulnerability, if only for a moment. His heart is beating again, fast and hard within his chest.

“This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Are you against it?”

Thancred is silent for a moment, looking almost everywhere besides at your eyes. He’s not a weak man, there would be no issues to break from your hold if he truly didn’t like the shift of position, though you want to hear him voice the desire. You want to hear a _lot_ of things from him if this is to be a regular affair, but  a desperate moan of consent is certainly a good way to start.

And moan does he, though not without a little bit of encouragement; your lips press to his throat in gentle, but eager want, tongues gently tracing the tattoo along one side of his neck. It doesn’t take very long for you to realize he seems sensitive to the touch–in fact, he seems almost _too_ sensitive, his body is almost shivering against you, lips parted to moan a little with every breath.

“Tell me you want this,” you speak against his skin, thumbs rubbing gently over his open palms still pinned beside his head. “I need to hear you say it.”

Thancred finally looks at you, face full of pleasure: eyes half-lidded, his cheeks flushed, his lips slightly parted. You’re a little lost in how pretty he looks in the moment, but not lost enough that you miss him speak.

“Dearest warrior of light,” Thancred purrs, all but in your ear as you press kiss after kiss upon the side of his neck. “You better finish what you’ve started before someone has reason to check this storeroom.”

You chuckle against his skin and, with a smile on your lips, you adjust your hands and gently move the man’s own towards your head. You press them into your hair, wordlessly encouraging them to comb and grab at what they can mere moments before you drop yourself to your knees before Thancred’s hips.

You don’t miss the gentle gasp from the man as your hands instinctively start to move, pushing up the hem of his shirt to get sight of his pants–most importantly, at his belt. It’s luck enough that Thancred isn’t clothed in an insufferable number of straps, buckles and buttons, so it doesn’t take more than a few swift moments with deft fingers before you undo the front of his pants and slide them down his hips–just enough to catch sight of the sizable shape pressing against the man’s smallclothes.

“Oh my,” you murmur, reaching one hand to cup your palm against it and feeling as Thancred’s hips twitch forward. “Someone’s rather taken by this situation, aren’t they?”

It barely takes a gentle grinding of the heel of your palm against the hot, clothed shaft for the man to start groaning, unable to muffle the noises spilling so sweetly from his mouth even as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

You assume an answer, as you move too quickly for him to give you one–your hands reach and fingers curl around the waistband, tugging down the last layer of clothing hiding away his arousal from your curious, heavy gaze. It all but jumps out the moment it’s free from the confines, shaft thick and flushed all the same as Thancred’s cheeks. You can’t help but gaze at it for an extra few moments, if only to enjoy the sight and moment in kind. It’s not everyday that you get such a sight after all, feeling Thancred’s fingers tugging gently at your hair and, when you glance briefly upwards, seeing his face all wrapped up in a pleasurable hue of red.

You could offer a cheeky remark, knowing fully well that he doesn’t have the capability of saying much in return, but simple impulse gets the better of you before a single word falls from your tongue. Instead, you take selfish delight in parting your lips and taking Thancred down in one slow yet smooth motion, jaw stretched and teeth careful not to do more than gently skim across the sensitive flesh.

Your tongue presses up against the underside of his cock and, with delight, you swallow around him. The man practically yelps out in surprise and pleasure as the muscles of your throat close down rhythmically, tight and hot in the ways he seems none-too-shameful about loving _very_ audibly.

“ _Seven hells_ -” Thancred forces out, fingers pulling tight in your hair. “Oh that feels sublime, just–yes, just like that-”

He can hardly keep a steady stream of words as you take in as much of him as your mouth and throat allows, swallowing around him over and over again until you feel him shaking against your hands, which have fallen to his hips. Your thumbs brush lovingly over the curves of his body, the heat of his skin delighting you almost as much as the shape of him against your tongue.

Thancred seems reminded of his fingers in your hair the same moment you are. Without warning he winds them tighter, so tight that the pain mixes with the carnal satisfaction already swimming through your head and leaves a haze settle over your thoughts, neither suffocating nor gentle but content all the same.

“F-fuck, your mouth is _perfect,”_ Thancred growls, pulling your head closer so that his cock slides down deeper in your throat, reveling in the heat of your mouth and the grip of squeezing muscles.

Though you allow the man to take a physical control on the pace, so much as to even let him thrust his hips against your lips, there’s no mistaking that it’s you alone who has the control of the moment. Your hands still press to his hips and force a limit on how fast he can move, leaving him more and more desperate with every breath and every swallow around him.

The only downside to having him in your mouth is that you can’t speak, can’t tease Thancred for the sound of his moans, the flush of his face, the needing grip of his hands in your hair.

Daresay, the man is downright _adorable_ when he doesn’t have control, especially when it’s your name falling like honey from his parted lips.

The motions become a background of sensations for a time, a sharp back-and-forth that numbs your thoughts from anything other than the present moment. The feeling of Thancred’s fingers tugging at your hair, the thickness of his cock between your lips, the simple satisfaction of feeling his pleasure grow towards a beautiful crescendo and leaving him a wordless mess–it’s nearly as addicting as felling a primal.

In fact, it’s exactly the same feeling of exhilaration. It’s a battle long-fought, leaving you exhausted and body still buzzing with adrenaline. It’s a battle of power unlike anything you’ve ever felt, electricity crackling through the air from the mere presence of such a being. It’s tired muscles and stretched thoughts but a sense of elation all the same–an addictive feeling, if one isn’t careful.

The feeling is full and hot in your chest, a whirlwind in your mind–it’s so powerful that you lose yourself for a moment, but a moment is all that’s needed for you to quickly shift your arms  against the back of Thancred’s knees and sweep his legs over your shoulders. He makes a noise of surprise that morphs back into pleasure as you double-down on the pressure of your tongue against him, cock so deep in your throat that your nose nearly brushes against the soft hair above the base

“ _Oh_ twelve, that’s–that’s just-”

Thancred literally can’t keep a sentence together, his thoughts and words a mess between growing moans of intensity. His fingers dig into your hair, less controlling and more out of desperation at this point–you anchor him as best you can, his weight mostly pressed to the wall behind him and his thighs pressing against either side of your head.

His orgasm doesn’t come as much of a surprise; if anything you take the time to fully enjoy it, to savor the way his legs all but curl around your head, the tightness of his fingers in your hair, the broken song of his voice as it can only breath out your name in between each and every pleasured cry. You drink down every drop that Thancred spills with a possessive growl around the shape of him, making him clutch and shake and shiver until the hard wave of pleasure has finally settled into a gentle warmth.

You’re careful as you move, pulling your face back and carefully dropping Thancred to the floor so that the two of you can collect yourselves in body as much as in mind.

He looks to be quite the mess–hair mussed, pants down and shaking with the after-shocks of climax–but it’s a beautiful mess all the same. You shift close to him, face seeking the warmth of Thancred’s throat to lavish soft kisses against sensitive skin.

“Was that good?”

You don’t mean for the question to sound soft and unsure, but the worry lingers in your mind. Slaying primals and saving lives are certainly something that you’re used to doing, but it’s an entirely different subject than dealing with people on a personal, intimate level. So many things can be wrong, misunderstood or outright untrue–much more complex than simply defeating a foe.

At least you don’t have to wait long for a reply. The fellow Scion looks at you, eyes and cheeks warm with the afterglow of climax, and he lets out a soft laugh.

“You all but ravished me beyond the ability to speak and _that’s_ the first question out of you?”

“Well,” you murmur into his throat. “I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

You feel his sigh brush into your hair just as his lips meet your temple, kiss soft and hands softer as he holds you against him. The shared moment is sweet, unlatched from the world around you. Peace and warmth surrounds you in the form of Thancred’s arms and in that moment all you can do is lean into him.

“With a soul like you around us–around me–” you feel his grip tighten, as if cradling your form to his. “-however could I not be happy?”

You’re not sure how long the two of you sit together like that, enjoying the moment and its words–both spoken and silent–but it’s nice. A chance to breathe in between all the chaos, a chance to make sure that Thancred’s okay and, apparently, a chance to kindle a relationship neither of you had chance to explore until now.

It’s a chance you’re happy to spend in Thancred’s arms for however long he’ll have you.


End file.
